The Infected Wound
by Adara's Rose
Summary: Icthlarin (the inquisitor) is sick. Very, very sick. Most likely dying, and Ilona (his twin) is too panicked to be of any use to anyone. Luckily, Cullen is very good in a crisis.


_(So... this is placed after the original game and Trespasser DLC,_

 _when my headcanon says that Icthlarin [the inquisitor]_

 _goes with his twin sister Ilona to provide moral support_

 _as she meets her husband's family for the first time._

 _Oh, and it gets graphic. Don't read if you're squeamish.)_

* * *

 ** _The Infected Wound._**

Ilona put the wet cloth back into the bowl of warm water as she heard the knock on the door. Slowly, hesitantly, she cast one last glance at her brother's pale face as she went to answer it. She gave Cullen a brief, wan smile that did not quite reach her eyes and stepped aside to let him in. She blinked in confusion the two cloaked men following him.

"Don't worry love" Cullen said, "it's the healer I promised I'd bring."

"I can see that" she replied, "but then who is he?" She pointed at the other man.

"His companion." There was something vaguely familiar about the man's voice, and it was as if she recognised him from somewhere even though she could not see his face. They hurried through the open door, and Cullen locked it behind them. Then she blinked in confusion as they removed their hoods, showing their faces. One was a tall, blonde man with a look in his eyes Ilona did not want to know about, and the other…

"Champion Hawke?" She squeaked, eyes wide.

"Hello, lady Rutherford." He said, looking amused. The blond man ignored them both and walked over to Icthlarin with swift steps, leaning over the delirious elf.

"How long has he been in this state?" He asked.

"Most of the day" Ilona replied miserably. "He started getting a fever two days ago, but today I can't even speak to him. it is as if he doesn't hear me."

The blond man nodded, and started removing the bandages she had wrapped tightly around the amputated limb. Ilona, not wanting to see the horror, fled to Cullen's arms. She hid her face in his chest as his arms wrapped around her.

"Who is he" she whispered into his shirt, "how do you know he'll help?"

"Hawke vouched for him" Cullen replied in a low voice, "and I know him from way back. He is one of the mages from the Circle of Ferelden. His name is Anders. He was the second best healer we had back then, I expect he's better now."

"I am" the blond - Anders - said, not looking up. "I dare say I am better than Bela now."

'"Then please" Ilona begged, "help him. I'll pay any fee."

"We don't want money" Hawke replied. "Cullen told us the inquisitor is dying. We came to help."

Ilona sobbed and clung harder to Cullen. She didn't want to face the possibility of losing her brother.

Anders had finally managed to unwrap the bandages and looked at the stump, frowning.

"It looks good" he said, puzzled. "Healing. there is even some fresh skin. He should not be this ill."

"Please help him" Ilona sobbed, face still buried in Cullen's chest. He rocked her slowly.

Anders stood still, contemplating. He looked at the inquisitor's gaunt face, slicked with sweat. The eyes moved restlessly beneath the thin, bruised eyelids, but he did not seem to be aware of the world around him.

"It could be that there is an infection deeper in the limb" Anders said after some silence. "Has the wound been magically sealed?"

"Yes" Cullen said, "the … one who caused it was a rift mage."

Anders nodded.

"Then it could be that the wound is not healed, only sealed. Then an infection would be able to brew under the surface."

He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Caelan, I need the smallest knife, fresh bandages, a bowl and a bottle of the strongest spirits the inn has to offer." Hawke nodded once, then opened the bag he had been carrying as he entered the room. He gave Anders the requested materials, then disappeared outside to find the requested spirits.

"What are you going to do?" Ilona whimpered.

"I need to open the wound and possibly drain it" Anders replied. "I suspect there is an infection, and we need to drain the pus before it causes even more damage. If he gets gangrene in the state he is in, you might as well order a coffin."

Ilona wailed, and Cullen clutched her close again, rocking and crooning comforting nonsense. She could not help but feel intensely grateful that he was focusing completely on her.

They waited in silence until Hawke returned, bringing a bottle of fine brandy.

"I'm afraid I had to put it on your tab" he said apologetically to Cullen.

"That's fine, if it helps." Hawke nodded and moved over to where Anders was waiting. The men exchanged a glöance that seemed to be full of unsaid words, and then Hawke took the bowl and held it just under Icthlarin's wound. Anders nodded once, then took the knife and cut deeply into the flesh. Ilona cried out as if it was she who was being cut into, but Icthlarin made no sound where he lay. Anders kept cutting, frowning down at the wound, until he made a small sound of triumph.

"Got you!" He exclaimed. He turned the limb slowly to be angled down at the bowl, then placed both his hands on each side of Icthlarin's arm and squeezed.

Ilona watched in horror as thick, yellow gloop began oozing out of her brother's arm. The smell was foul, and she shuddered with disgust but found herself unable to look away. The draining seemed to go on forever, and even though she felt as if she might faint at any moment she did not avert her eyes. The yellow pus became pinker and pinker until it was as red as fresh blood before Anders stopped squeezing.

"That should do it" he said, sounding satisfied. He took a piece of gauze, drenched it in brandy, and pushed it into the gaping wound. He had to put his fingers nearly all the way in before he seemed satisfied, then he kept piling in the brandy-soaked gauze. Finally, he wrapped the limb in thick bandages, tying them securely fast. Finally, he took out a small brown bottle from the bag. 

"Can someone please get a mug of fresh water?" He asked, and Ilona freed herself from Cullen's arms in order to obey him. She grabbed the pitcher on the nightstand and, with shaking hands, poured water into the tin mug standing next to it. She spilt more than she poured, but finally the mug was mostly full and she brought it over to Anders who poured some of the potion into it.

"Have him drink this" he ordered, "even if he's unresponsive. It will help with the infection and the pain."

"Thank you" Ilona whispered, her voice barely obeying her. She accepted the mug back and went around the bed to reach her brother better.

He still lay as still as the dead, only shivering slightly. His lips were slightly open, covered in a thin sheen of sweat that she had given up on wiping away hours ago. She carefully put the mug to his lips, praying that she wasn't about to drown him.

"Please drink" she begged quietly as she let some dribble down his throat. "Please, Lari, drink."

And even though he was unconscious, it was as if he heard her and obeyed. Finally, Ilona put the mug back on the table and, exhausted, sank down next to her brother. She pressed her own wet cheek to his clammy one, trying not to cry. 

"Thank you" Cullen said to the two men.

"Save your thanks" Anders said grimly. "He's got a long way to go yet."

"Then please stay" Cullen pleaded. "You are the only one I trust with him, please."

Anders hesitated, looking over at Hawke.

"I'll keep you safe" Hawke said, looking at Anders with obvious affection. Ilona thought it looked like the way Cullen looked at her. It made her smile a little. The blond mage nodded.

"Very well" he said curtly, "we'll stay a while. Until he's out of the woods."

Hawke nodded, pressed a quick kiss to the healer's cheek.

"I'll get us a room."

Ilona sighed, content, and laid her head back down on Icthlarin's pillow. They had a healer now, and he would live. They'd make sure of it.

"It'll be alright now" she murmured, eyes shutting of their own volition. "We'll be alright now." And in her heart, she knew that he had heard her.

-fin.


End file.
